


The Riddle Task Force

by originella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Severus Snape, Law Enforcement, M/M, May/December Relationship, Misunderstandings, Scotland Yard, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Voldemort is a gang leader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-12-31 05:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originella/pseuds/originella
Summary: Harry Potter, twenty-five; a recent transplant from the United States after being adopted by his godfather and transported there. Harry has graduated from Yale University and, after rejecting a promotion to detective in the New York Police Force, decides to return to England to be a part of Scotland Yard. Broken from his past, who will mend him?Severus Snape, forty; a seasoned veteran of Scotland Yard, who received dual degrees from Oxford University in chemistry and forensic science. Determined not to be labeled as a babysitter by his commanding officer, Albus Dumbledore, Severus reluctantly takes Harry under his wing in the kidnapping case of Narcissa Black-Malfoy. As they work at the case, both men grow closer, and yet, their demons try and pull them apart. Who will change, and allow love to be forthcoming between them both?





	1. The Law of Diminishing Returns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saint_Snape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saint_Snape/gifts).

“Albus, you can’t possibly be serious right now,” growled Severus Snape. He hadn’t signed up for this, in all his years working for Scotland Yard; nowhere in his chemistry or forensic science degrees from Oxford University was the term “glorified babysitter”. Staring at the man he’d been working under for nearly two decades, he wondered if he had truly lost his mind, and it wasn’t even for the first time.

“I am completely serious, Severus,” Albus Dumbledore replied. He had been Commissioner of Scotland Yard for over twenty years, and although some individuals likely thoughts his methods, at times, were unorthodox, his success rate spoke for itself. “Lemon drop, Severus?” he asked him, hoping that the sweet would calm him down.

“No, thank you,” Severus replied, his tone clipped, as it always had done, for he had never taken sweets from his commissioner, just an occasional cup of tea every now and again. “As I was saying, Albus, I’m beginning to doubt your sanity, especially in this matter. You presume too much of me, Albus. You’re taking too much, and you expect too much. Can’t you understand that I don’t want to do this anymore?” he asked him, hating the tremor that entered into his voice at his words.

“You agreed, Severus, when Lucius and I recruited you for the division years ago,” Albus replied with those godforsaken twinkling blue eyes of his. “And ever since Narcissa was taken, we’ve had to double down on our efforts. Ted Tonks is a wonderful ally, even I can attest to that. But you know as well as I do that new recruits must be brought in when the opportunity presents itself, and you will supervise one of them.”

Severus gritted his teeth. “Surely Lucius would be better-suited...”

“Lucius, as you well know, has his hands full with training Draco, as well as the other new recruit we’re bringing in, Ron Weasley,” Albus explained patiently.

“Ah, yes. Weasley,” Severus said, rolling his eyes, “Granger’s fiancé. While Granger is certainly a competent barrister for us, Weasley’s not nearly as sharp as she is. He’ll likely need all the help he can get.”

Albus gave a nod. “Yes. Of course, I would have assigned Ted, but he’s working with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, two of our other new conscripts.”

Severus sneered. “Let’s hope they can keep their hands off one another. If they continue as they did under Kingsley and Alastair during the preliminary training, I fear they won’t last long within the organization.”

Albus chuckled softly. “I think they were sufficiently reprimanded, Severus, and will see fit to keep their relationship more private in future.”

Severus sneered as he leaned backwards in an effort to become more comfortable in his chair, despite his evident discomfort in their conversation. “Surely, Lucius can be persuaded to take on another recruit?”

“I’m afraid not, Severus. What with his duties with training Draco and young Mr. Weasley, he also has his hands full with young Scorpius and the twins.”

Severus’s black brows twitched together. “Won’t it be seen as nepotism by training his own son, and favoritism, by training his own son’s brother-in-law?”

Albus chuckled again at Severus’s implications. “Ron and Draco work exceptionally well together. I’m told that, despite a rough beginning in their school years, they quite came together, especially after Draco began a relationship with Ron’s sister, Ginny. Then came the rather quick marriage and parenthood, and while many brothers would seek to blame the husband for doing such a thing to their only sister, Ron was only too welcoming.”

Severus steepled his long fingers beneath his thin lips as he mulled over his mentor’s meaning in depth. “There is no way I can get out of this, is there?”

Albus shook his head. “I am afraid not, my boy. However, you should know that we’ve no just cause to hand over someone completely incompetent over to you.”

Severus blinked. “Oh, really? Who is it, then?”

“A transplant from America. New York, to be more specific,” Albus said, and Severus rolled his eyes at that. “Come now, Severus. He was born in Surrey—”

“How lovely. A Canadian,” he muttered bitterly.

“Not so, Severus,” Albus told his subordinate patiently. “He was born in _our_ Surrey,” he went on, and Severus’s brows raised upwards a hair. “He graduated from Yale, as a matter of fact, before he joined New York’s Finest. He achieved the rank of officer, of course, after the training ended, and while his chief wished to promote him to detective, he declined, and opted to return here, to the United Kingdom. Of course, it helps that his fathers have decided to retire here in the wake of them reaching a certain age.”

Severus blinked. “‘Fathers’?” he asked.

“Yes. You don’t have a problem with that, do you, Severus?”

Severus promptly shook his head. “No. None whatsoever.”

“His fathers were best friends while in school, and upon the death of the young man’s biological family in the early-1980’s, the friendship blossomed into love. One was, thankfully, the young man’s godfather, and the adoption went off without a hitch. The other, however, was unable to formally adopt him, due to the stigma, of course.”

Severus gave a brief nod. “Of course. You say his parents died? How?”

“Murdered,” Albus said softly, and Severus swallowed; while his own parents hadn’t been murdered themselves, they had both been gone more years than he had had with them in the first place, so he understood the loss. “The young man himself was fifteen months old when the crime took place.”

“So, he’s got no memory of them?”

“Memories are known to stretch far backwards in time, Severus. Even I couldn’t say what the young man could and couldn’t remember.”

“Who is he, then?” Severus asked.

“Your ‘helper’, as it were, for this new case to finally attempt, once and for all, to get Narcissa back to us in one piece, will be Harry Potter,” Albus said.

Severus stiffened immediately. “Potter?”

Albus blinked. “Yes. Potter. Why?”

Severus swallowed, suddenly uneasy. “Fairly common surname, is it not?”

“It has the capability of being so, Severus, as far as I’m aware,” Albus said, looking over his old friend closely. “Why do you ask?”

Severus sighed, straightening his shoulders, recalling the taunts he received, along with other forms of habitual teenage bullying, from James Potter and his cronies—Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew—whilst they were all in school. Long resenting the man, especially when he took away his only friend, Lily Evans, when they were all fourteen-years-old, and then came Lily’s unexpected pregnancy just months later, it was a bitter blow. The only good thing about it was the notion that Severus realized he had never been in love with Lily, and had far preferred men whenever he shared intimate company, which was seldom, to say the least, and it had cleared up many things thereafter.

“Severus?”

Severus cleared his throat, shaking his head in an attempt to ward off the memories. “Nothing. I merely went to school with someone with that surname.”

“Oh, I see.” Albus hesitated for a moment. “I take it the relationship was a less-than-savory one, then?”

Severus gave a stiff nod. “That’s putting it lightly, but yes.”

Albus sighed. “Well, I hope it won’t diminish your opinion of young Harry,” he went on, and Severus’s shoulders slackened at that, before he nodded. “Harry is an upright young man, and very committed to his job. No romantic entanglements are listed in his file, so he was thought to be a good recruitment for you.”

“Charming,” Severus muttered sarcastically.

“Now, Severus, I hope I will not have to force you into Sybill’s manner lessons again,” Albus warned him, and Severus felt his skin prickling at the thought of the bushy-haired woman demanding in a faraway tone to open up his mind and accept the workings of his inner eye in order to achieve happiness with the world, around others, and to attempt to conform to society and its endless possibilities.

“No, you won’t, Albus,” Severus told him.

“Very good,” the man replied with a smile. “Harry’s just settling up things with his fathers, and he should be along within a few days.”

“Thought it best to warn me now, then, instead of springing it on me, old man?”

Albus’s eyes merely twinkled at that. “I know you were never one for surprises, Severus,” he told the younger man, and Severus merely cocked an eyebrow at that.

~*~ 

Harry stared out the window of the flat he had called home for the past seven years, upon his acceptance into Yale. Sirius and Remus had been amazing parents towards him, but he had been confident enough to strike out on his own upon the occasion of his eighteenth birthday. To his surprise, Sirius had found him an amazing place to live, not too far from campus. He had thought about selling it upon his acceptance into the police force, but he had opted to spend the weekends there, while weeknights were spent in his childhood bedroom in the penthouse that Sirius and Remus shared in the city itself.

He would miss the view most of all; on autumn days, the sun would rise and hit the trees just right, causing the leaves to practically glow just below the city skyline. Harry pushed himself away from the window; Sirius and Remus had already caught a flight back to England two days before, to open up the old Black family home, while Harry had stayed behind the make sure he had all his belongings from the flat. He had spent several hours the day before, divvying up the possessions he’d accumulated over the years, coming up with boxes for donation, trash, and recycling, before moving onto the next step.

His flight back home was scheduled for later that night, and he would have to take a cab, with his smaller possessions, as his bigger ones had been sent on ahead, to LaGuardia. The ride itself would take a bit of time, and he’d decided to grab some dinner at the airport before the flight had taken off. Moving across the room and back towards the couch, which had come with the place and would be staying behind, Harry picked up the file folder that Commissioner Albus Dumbledore had sent along ahead, briefing him on his new assignment for Scotland Yard, as well as his new partner, Severus Snape.

Harry had skimmed the section about the abduction of Narcissa Black-Malfoy, nearly twenty years before, and was amazed that her husband, Lucius, and their son, Draco, were both affiliated with Scotland Yard, and working hard on bringing her home. Looking further into the paperwork provided, Harry took in the official photograph of Severus Snape; he had gotten dual degrees in chemistry and forensic science from Oxford University, and his severe expression, surprisingly, did not turn Harry away. He had endless black pools for eyes, a long, straight nose, pale skin, and shoulder-length, black hair.

Harry had known he was gay from the fumblings he’d had in secondary school, and then a couple of relationships throughout his university years. They hadn’t been very meaningful, he realized, as time had gone on. Yes, they’d been consensual, and yes, he’d had fun with the men in his life, but there was no love lost between them when the relationships had ended. The notion that he had never been in love didn’t strike him as out of the ordinary; although, his relationship with Cedric Diggory, when he was in his first year at Yale and Cedric in his third, came pretty close to it.

Cedric was a transplant from England, having attended boarding school there up until he’d come to attend Yale overseas, on an academic scholarship, similar to Harry’s. Harry had gone back to England with Cedric to meet his family, and Cedric’s father, Amos, had taken to Harry almost immediately. Cedric was studying business to take over his father’s company, Diggory Drills, and the family was ecstatic about the whole thing. Cedric had even gone so far as to move into Harry’s flat with him upon their return from England for the Christmas holidays, and so things were officially on the up-and-up.

The summer after Cedric had graduated from Yale, however, had taken a toll. Cedric had asked Harry to move back with him to England, and to take a transfer to Oxford or Cambridge. Harry, dead-set in his ways, had refused, and Cedric had accused him of being afraid. The beautiful brown eyes that Harry had been attracted to now flashed in anger and resentment, and Cedric told Harry that he was in love with him, but, clearly, Harry didn’t feel the same way. Cedric had stormed out of the flat after that; it was an uncharacteristically rainy night in their area, and Cedric had been found knifed to death in an alleyway; mugging appeared to be the primary motive, according to local authorities. The last Harry had heard from Amos, as it didn’t feel right to attend the funeral, was that Amos was selling the business to a man named Vernon Dursley, who had attempted to get his grubby little paws onto it for years.

Harry lowered his eyes back down to the picture of Severus Snape, and found that he would have to keep his mouth shut about his preferences. Someone like Snape would likely have a wife and family, or would be steadfastly married to his work. He could never be interested in someone fifteen years younger, let alone someone who was incapable of love. Harry shut the file folder and placed it in his laptop case, which would serve as his carry-on onto the plane. His eyes swept over the flat again, and he heard a car horn down below; upon getting to his feet, he saw that his cab had arrived. Waving through the window, he made a grab for his jacket and duffel bag, before putting his laptop case over his shoulder. He locked the door behind him, and took the lift down to the ground floor, putting the keys into his landlord’s mailbox, along with a letter, thanking him for everything.

Upon stepping outside and towards the cab, the driver got out and took the duffel, popping it into the boot for him. Harry thanked him with a smile and got into the back seat, holding his laptop case in his lap, and the driver circled the vehicle and climbed back in. Harry confirmed his destination to LaGuardia, and answered the man’s questions about moving home for a job. He confirmed his status as a police officer, but didn’t go into further detail than that, knowing that cases were, in the eyes of the law, confidential.

Harry turned and looked over his shoulder, giving a final cursory glance to his home. He had never even cried when Cedric was killed, and a part of him hated himself for it. Dragging a hand down his face, he answered the cab drivers’ question, letting him know that he would like it if they took the freeway. Leaning back into his seat, he slipped the file folder from his bag again, but this time, used it to hide his face as tears filled his green eyes at the thought that he was too callous to cry for a former lover.

~*~

Harry’s arrival at Heathrow Airport was met with little fanfare, which was exactly how he wanted it. He got a cab from the airport once his duffel had been returned to him, and took it to Islington in London, a trip which was about forty-five minutes, giving him plenty of time to tell Sirius and Remus that he was officially on the way. Once the driver put him out front of Grimmauld Place, Harry slipped from the vehicle, and handed over a generous tip to the driver as he handed over his duffel bag to him from the boot. Thanking the man, Harry went up the steps of the old house and let himself in, leading to screams from inside the house as Sirius and Remus dashed forward to meet him.

“Yes, the flight was fine, and so am I,” Harry told them as he was embraced by one and then the other. From over Remus’s shoulder, he saw the familiar face of Lucius, halfway down the hallway, who was Sirius’s cousin-in-law, and who Harry had known quite well since his early childhood. “Uncle Luc?” he asked, disengaging himself from Remus’s arms and stepping forward. “I got all the paperwork and such. Everything all right?”

Lucius Malfoy regarded Harry with a smile and a brief hug. “Of course, Harry,” he told him, in that official tone of his. “Sirius and Remus just thought it would be great for you to meet some new people, now that you’re here.”

“New people?” Harry asked.

“Not so new, if I may say so,” said a familiar voice, and Harry turned and looked down the corridor towards the kitchen, grinning.

“Hey, Drake,” he said, dashing towards his technical cousin, and the pair proceeded to rough-house accordingly for a moment. “Who did Uncle Luc have in mind?”

“Me, for starters,” came a pleasant voice, and a young woman with a vibrant mane of red hair stepped forward, her beautiful brown eyes radiating intelligence. “Ginny Weasley-Malfoy,” she said, putting out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Gin,” Harry said, rolling his eyes and pulling her in for an embrace. “Of course I know who you are. Enough phone conversations over the years. I could recognize that voice anywhere.”

“And the Christmas visits,” Ginny put in with a giggle, squeezing Harry for a moment before she stepped backwards. “My brother Ron is here,” she said, nodding to a tall individual with the same shade of red hair she had, “and this is his fiancée, Hermione Granger,” Ginny went on, indicating a lovely young woman, half a head shorter than Ron, with bushy brown hair and a softly pretty face.

“Good to meet you, mate,” Ron said with a grin, stepping forward and giving Harry a warm handshake. “I’m part of Luc’s task force with Drake here.”

“Right,” Harry said, recalling hearing about that, as he turned to Hermione. “Nice to meet you, too, Hermione.”

“Barrister,” she said with a smile before he could ask. “I’m a part of the team of barristers for Scotland Yard. You wouldn’t believe how many times we get people wanting to sue the organization,” she said with a laugh.

“She’s also my best friend, in addition to my future sister-in-law,” Ginny explained. “We all went to school together—Eton.”

“Except Ginny was a year younger than we were,” Draco explained. “We’re all the same year in school you were, Harry.”

“I wasn’t too keen on my little sister—my _only_ sister—going out with Drake at first, but I came around to it.”

“You had to, mate,” Draco said with a grin.

“Considering we married right out of school,” Ginny said with a laugh, leaning back into Draco’s embrace.

“Your dads also invited Dean and Seamus—they went to Eton with us, too,” Ron said with a considerate look in Harry’s direction. “They should be along shortly. I think Dean said something about picking up a bottle of wine first.”

“They’re together?” Harry guessed.

Hermione nodded. “Yeah, since we were fifteen,” she said with a smile. “They’re so happy together, and make such a lovely couple.”

“Luna and Neville coming?” Ginny asked, turning to her brother.

“I think so,” Ron told her.

“Cousin Dora’s coming as well,” Draco confirmed. “My mother’s younger sister’s child. She isn’t the daughter of Bellatrix, the one who... You know,” he said quietly to Harry.

Harry nodded. “I know,” he told him.

“Neville and Luna are cousins as well,” Hermione said, always knowing when to change the subject at hand. “Luna’s bringing her fiancé, Rolf Scamander, and Neville’s bringing his girlfriend, Hannah Abbott. They’ve been together for years.”

“What do they all do?” Harry asked, relieved that Hermione had the sense to change the subject when she had.

“Neville’s a top plant expert,” Ron said, his tone slightly too enthusiastic to be believable. “He’s really into... What was it, ‘Mione?”

“Horticulture. He teaches it at Eton, as a matter of fact,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes, and she and Harry shared a grin between themselves. “Luna, bless her, is a veterinarian, and does exceptionally well for herself.”

“She has a practice with her husband, Rolf,” Ginny put in. “Luna was in my year at Eton, and her father handed over the practice to her after she got her degree.”

“And Hannah?” Harry wanted to know.

“A nurse,” Draco told Harry with an indulgent smile. “Just got certified. She was a server at our haunt, The Three Broomsticks, putting herself through school.”

“That’s how Neville met her,” Ron chimed in. “Thought she was gorgeous—long, blonde hair and all that. Never thought she’d go for him, but Nev’s probably one of the nicest blokes you’ll ever meet. Hannah responded to that.”

Ginny’s made a slight noise then as her phone chimed, and she dove into her pocket to get it. She sighed a little then, and placed the phone up to her ear. “Hello, Matilda,” she said into the phone, and stepped a bit away from everyone.

“My grandmother,” Draco put in softly, looking over his shoulder with concern. “She’s got the kids tonight.”

“How are the kids?” Harry asked him.

Draco smiled indulgently once again. “Scorpius is five and is tearing up the house, and primary school,” he said, puffing out his chest with pride for his son. “And the twins... Well, Henrietta and Desdemona, they’re two now and they’re quite attached to Ginny. I’m afraid that Grandma Matilda is calling because they want to speak to her before going to bed.”

“You’re lucky I grew attached to you,” Ron muttered, crossing his arms and leaning up against the kitchen table.

Harry raised his eyebrows at that. “Something you’re not telling me, Drake?”

Draco scoffed. “Oh. That.”

“Yes, that,” Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at Ron. “I’m just surprised Headmistress McGonagall didn’t expel you for it.”

“Ah, yes, my dear brother’s reaction to my first pregnancy,” Ginny said, wrapping up her phone conversation and crossing back into the fray, ducking under Draco’s arm and cuddling up to him with a smile. “You’re lucky you were in the States, Harry. I’d hate to think of what would’ve happened, had you been here.”

Harry slowly turned and looked at Ron again. “What happened?”

“We started seeing each other when Gin was fifteen and I was sixteen, just before the school year began,” Draco said, gently squeezing Ginny’s shoulder, while the latter rested her head against his chest. “Well, we weren’t as careful as we could’ve been and, long story short, Ginny and I got pregnant during the Christmas holidays.”

“It was a hard decision, but I decided to terminate the pregnancy,” Ginny said quietly. “My parents told us that they would raise the child, and Luc was willing to provide financial support, but it just didn’t feel right. So, we went ahead with the termination, although Ron gave Drake a black eye and fractured a couple of his ribs beforehand.”

“I may have had some choice words with Ron beforehand, and provoked him into it,” Draco reported with a sigh.

“Doesn’t make it all right, though,” Hermione said, poking Ron in the side.

“Oi! We’ve all apologized,” Ron said, rubbing the area, which appeared to have smarted.

“And then, right after Ginny graduated, I asked her to marry me,” Draco said, beaming as he looked down at her. “I just couldn’t live without her. I’d been at Cambridge for a year by that point...”

“And I’d received my acceptance—I still go there. Doctorate and all,” Ginny said with a faint flush on her cheeks. “But, it just seemed like it was time. Mum and Dad approved, and so did Luc, and now we’ve got three kids between us, and the marriage anyone could dream of. We couldn’t be happier.”

“And I came around to it, eventually,” Ron said, and Hermione rewarded him with a soft peck on the cheek.

“What is it you’re studying again, Gin?” Harry asked.

“History,” she said with a smile. “Headmistress McGonagall’s lining up a position for me once I get my degree. Our old instructor, Professor Binns, is nearing retirement age and he swears he won’t retire until I’m there to boot him out, so to speak.”

Harry nodded, suddenly aware of his duffel and laptop case, still being gripped by one hand and suspended from his opposite shoulder. “I should probably get these upstairs,” he said.

“Let me help you,” Draco said, taking his duffel and moving to follow him back up the hallway and towards the staircase.

“Sirius get the portrait down?” Harry called behind him.

Draco laughed as the stairs squeaked beneath them. “Yeah. It was the first project that he and Remus assigned themselves upon their return.”

Harry shuddered, remembering how much Walburga Black had freaked him out whenever he would come back to England for Christmas, and he was relieved to spot a painting of simple wildflowers in a vase as they reached the first landing. Nodding to himself, he continued up the stairs, towards Sirius’s bedroom, which Harry had inherited upon Sirius and Remus taking over the master suite. Harry turned the knob and pushed open the door, relieved to spot the window open and clearing out the last of the dust.

“Dad and I got you some new bedding and throw pillows and such,” Draco said, tossing Harry’s duffel onto the bed before retreating to the threshold. “We love Sirius and Remus as much as you do, mate, but their decorating skills...”

“Or lack thereof,” Harry tossed over his shoulder.

Draco grinned. “...yes, extremely lacking, and that’s being kind,” he said. His expression turned sorrowful for a moment then, and Harry took off his laptop case from his shoulder, and placed it down in the chair beside the window.

“How’s it been?” he asked quietly.

“It just gets harder,” Draco said softly. “Mum would’ve loved Ginny, and now that we’ve got the kids, I just see her in them more and more as time goes by...”

Harry nodded, crossing the room and squeezing Draco’s shoulders, and waited for his cousin to look up at him before he spoke. “Drake, our time is now. We have all been trained for this. Once the field work begins, we’re going to find her, I know we are. You know that you were lucky to have at least known your mother.”

Draco nodded stiffly then, pulling back slightly to scrub the tears out of his eyes. “Nev doesn’t have his parents either.”

Harry blinked. “No?”

“No. They’re in Broadmoor,” Draco told him in a voice barely above a whisper. “Another one of Aunt Bellatrix’s tricks,” he said bitterly.

“And Luna?”

“Her mother,” Draco affirmed. “Lost her when she was nine because of a chemistry accident of some sort going awry. She doesn’t talk about it much.”

Harry shook his head. “No. I didn’t really talk about my parents getting killed on the job either,” he said quietly.

“Did... Did _he _know?”

Harry smirked. “You can say Cedric’s name, Drake. It... It’s all right now.”

“Did Cedric know, then?”

Harry swallowed. “Yeah, I brought it up once. He threw it back in my face the night he ended up knifed in the alley,” he said, kicking the foot of his trainer against the wood floor.

“I never thought he was good for you,” Draco put in.

Harry looked up. “No?”

“No,” Draco said, shaking his head. “Too much of a pretty boy, if you ask me. Always going on and on about his reputation and whatnot.”

“That’s right. He went to Eton with you guys before he moved to the States to go to Yale,” Harry said, putting his hands in his pockets. “What was he like?”

“Two years ahead of us,” Draco said, tilting his head back as he considered the memories. “He didn’t really date much, if I remember correctly, not that there weren’t plenty of offers from both sides of the student body...”

“And academically?”

“Gifted, according to Headmistress McGonagall,” Draco reported. “That never seemed to be an issue with him.”

“What was?”

“I don’t really know. He suddenly became really withdrawn at the end of his final year. Like he’d seen a ghost or something.”

“He was dating that exchange student, right?”

“Yeah, from Bulgaria, Viktor Krum,” Draco replied with a nod. “It was a shock, because Krum had been running around with Hermione for a time beforehand, which ultimately led to Ron taking up with Lavender Brown down the line. Jealousy was stirred up enough between those two, and they didn’t get together until the end of our final year.”

“And Cedric?”

“We just thought he was getting torn up because Krum was going back to Bulgaria once the final term ended,” Draco said with a shrug. “We didn’t travel in the same circles, and I was trying my best to keep Ron off my back, because of Ginny’s pregnancy and subsequent termination. I wish I had more information for you, Harry, and I’m sorry that I don’t.”

Harry shook his head. “No, mate, don’t worry about it. It gives me some context, at the very least,” he told him, forcing a smile onto his face. “I don’t think he was out to his family, though, given that they gave us separate bedrooms when we went to visit them.”

Draco shrugged. “Maybe they were just traditional.”

Harry sighed. “Could’ve been, but they mentioned Cho at the funeral, naming her as his girlfriend, despite the fact that she was just the mistress.”

Draco reached out then, squeezing Harry’s shoulder this time. “Couldn’t have been easy for you, mate, any of it. I’m sorry.”

Harry laughed darkly. “Nothing I can’t handle, right?”

Draco stared at him for a moment. “You’re holding something back, though.”

Harry dragged a hand through his hair. “What’s Snape like?” he asked.

Draco laughed aloud then. “I knew it! You’ve got it bad, cousin,” he said, and Harry reached out then, knuckling into his hair, to the point where Draco called uncle, and decided it would be an opportune time to tell him everything he needed to know.

~*~

Severus was working feverishly on a report for the preliminary meeting he was to be subjected to with his new recruit, when his desk phone rang. He picked it up then, placing the phone delicately onto his ear, and sandwiched it between that and his shoulder. “Yes?” he said into the receiver, while all the while typing as quickly as he could.

“Ah, Severus,” came Albus’s jovial tone. “Just wanted to let you know that young Mr. Potter is here to meet with you.”

Severus swallowed. “I’ll be five minutes. That all right?”

“Of course, my dear boy, of course,” Albus said. “I’ll let him know.”

Severus hung up the phone as the line went dead, before adding his final thoughts to the report and sent the document to the printer. Saving his progress and getting to his feet, Severus locked the computer and got to his feet, crossing over to the printer and fetching the papers. He stapled them all together before he advanced down the hallway towards Albus’s office, tapping on the door before he was permitted inside, and came in once he was.

“Ah, Severus, my boy, you’ve arrived,” Albus said, getting to his feet. “Harry, this is Severus Snape, who will be overseeing you.”

Severus watched as Harry turned around slowly then, the nest of black hair on his head unable to be tamed, and the startling green eyes that stared back at him, with Severus fully comprehending how those emerald orbs could stare directly into his soul if they had a mind to. “Severus Snape,” he said to the young man, putting out his hand.

“Harry Potter,” said the younger man, accepting Severus’s hand, with a surprisingly firm and warm grip, not altogether unpleasant.

Severus arched a brow, and somewhat reluctantly released the boy. “Despite all your years in the United States, I see you haven’t lost your accent.”

Harry visibly swallowed, a faint flush appearing on his cheeks, and Severus found himself hardening slightly at the sight before him. “Wanted to stay true to my roots,” he admitted with a boyish smile, which was just the ticket to send Severus over the edge.

“Yes. Well,” he said, sweeping his black gaze over to Albus, whose blue eyes were busy twinkling in a mischievous manner. “Am I permitted to take my charge now?”

“Go onward, my boys,” Albus said.

Severus gave a cursory nod to his superior, before turning back to Harry. “Let us get a move on then, Potter.”

Harry quickly followed him, letting the silence stretch between them for a moment before he spoke up again. “Look, it’s plain to see you didn’t want anyone to look after, but I know how to do my job, sir. Not to worry.”

Severus tossed a look over his shoulder at the young man as they swept back into his office. “Sit down, then,” he said, not answering his question, as he moved to the main chair behind his lethal-looking desk. “You’re correct, Mr. Potter. I don’t appreciate my skills being demeaned to the title of babysitter, but, here we are.”

Harry swallowed. “Right,” he said softly. “Please, can you not call me that?”

Severus blinked. “Call you what?”

“‘Mr. Potter’,” he replied. “I... I never liked it.”

“What shall I call you, then?”

“Harry. That’s all I am, anyway. Just Harry. It’s all I ever wanted to be.” He shrugged. “I mean, once everyone figured out who I was growing up, they wanted to get all, I don’t know... They fawned over me, to be honest, and it was downright... Well, sickening.”

“You didn’t like the fame?”

“Infamy is more like it,” Harry said darkly.

“What’s the difference?”

“My parents are dead, sir. I don’t really like being constantly reminded of that whenever people figure out what my name is, and that goes into who I am. I could’ve taken on my adopted father’s surname, but I didn’t. So, there we are.”

“Your parents are dead?”

Harry nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

“Well, Harry,” Severus said, causing the younger man to look up at him again, “it seems as though we have something in common.”

Harry swallowed. “I’m sorry. About your parents.”

Severus sighed. “Don’t be sorry about my father, Harry. He was a drunkard who liked to smack me and my mother around as much as he could. My mother, however... She would try, I suppose, to be competent in her parental role. Just... The abuse took its toll.”

Harry gave a shallow nod. “I am sorry to hear that, sir. Truly, I am.”

Severus looked down at the paperwork in his hand then, knowing when it was time to move on to the next phase of things. “I hear you are intimately familiar with the face.”

“Yes. The kidnapped woman, Narcissa Black-Malfoy, is my adopted father’s cousin,” Harry told him, and Severus tried to ignore the inkling rushing through him.

“Very well,” Severus said. “Let us go back through the files and see the initial interviews that the former leads on the case took, and we’ll start from there.”

Harry nodded. “That sounds reasonable, sir.” He hesitated for a moment. “What does a chemist and a forensic scientist have to do with the case?”

Severus smiled darkly. “You’ll know things in due time, Harry.”

“Tell me something now. Please. I hate working in the dark.”

Severus swallowed. “It is like an onion.”

Harry blinked. “The case?”

Severus shook his head. “No, Harry. Me. I’m the onion,” he said softly, before he handed over a file folder to the young man, refusing to admit that there was a tremor from within him when his fingertips brushed Harry’s.


	2. The Lay of the Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going forward, a few announcements... 
> 
> (1) Yes, I'm aware that Eton is an all-boys' school, but this is an alternative universe where it is co-educational.
> 
> (2) I will post the link of the phoenix painting I used for inspiration down at the bottom
> 
> (3) The Clove Club was opened in 2013, and the story takes place from 2005 - 2006 so technically I'm taking some liberties here

Harry found himself frustrated when, after three days on the job, he knew next to nothing about Severus, because the man seemed to be just that, an onion. Uncle Luc was no help about the man’s personal life either, although he was quick to tell Harry not to bring up Severus around Grimmauld Place, unless he was looking for a fight. When pressed further, however, Lucius Malfoy claimed that his lips were sealed, and Harry was back to square one again, with a man over ten years his senior telling him to mind his own business.

Commissioner Albus Dumbledore was no help either, and he was content to sit behind his all-powerful desk with his too-sweet tea, popping an abundance of lemon drops into his mouth. “I have never had one cavity, my body,” he told Harry.

Harry grimaced, but quickly turned and looked at a painting on the commissioner’s wall in an effort to hide it. He took in the two small windows on the wall to his left, and, in between them, was an oil painting of a bird that seemed to have numerous colors of the rainbow, and yet veered towards the element of fire. The spread wings against the painting seemed to be licks of a fires’ flame against a starry sky, with the bird itself staring at whoever was looking back at it without fear, while its tail feathers curved and looped like ribbons around the stars.

“That’s lovely, sir,” Harry said, at a loss for how to get more information on Severus.

“Oh, thank you, my boy,” Commissioner Dumbledore replied, his blue eyes twinkling at the compliment from his newest sergeant. “It was done by... An old friend of mine,” he went on, and his break in speech caused Harry to look over at him. “We met many years ago, through a mutual friend—different schools, you see—and he... It was quite a summer.”

Harry blinked, crossing his legs. “You were close? Like brothers?”

“No,” the older man said, shaking his head and staring into his tea, “for I have a brother, and had a sister. We, Gellert and I, were closer than brothers.”

“Gellert?” Harry asked then, and Dumbledore’s eyes immediately snapped to his. “As in Gellert Grindelwald, the infamous serial killer?”

Dumbledore stiffened slightly at that, before placing his half-empty teacup onto his desk. “Yes, I knew him when we were young, just before he committed his first murder.”

“According to reports, he didn’t commit his first murder until 1961, with a highly-publicized trail that, in controversy with the barrister and jury’s recommendation, he was released after just five years, whereupon his killings got worse, and he was able to evade authorities until his final arrest in 1990,” Harry said, sitting rim-rod straight in his chair.

“According to public opinion, yes,” Dumbledore said, his eyes rimmed with sadness, “when he murdered Myrtle Warren in late-1989, just before his final arrest,” he went on, the sadness seeming to leak from his pores. “However, the first murder that Gellert Grindelwald committed was in 1957, in the summer, just after my seventeenth birthday.”

“Were you there?”

“I bore witness to it,” Dumbledore said stoically, although his eyes communicated a far different story. “His victim was my sister, Ariana; she was only fourteen at the time,” he went on, the bitterness creeping into his tone.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Harry whispered.

The commissioner swallowed. “My father had been arrested for murder and was left to rot in prison, while my mother was accidentally pushed down the stairs by Ariana two years before. It was my responsibility to tend to my family, but I was far too selfish to see reason. All I wanted to do was explore the world with Gellert, and when Aberforth, my brother, who was nearly sixteen at the time, demanded that I hand over custody of Ariana to him, an argument broke out between the three of us...”

“You cannot blame yourself, sir...”

“Oh, can’t I?” the man asked bitterly. “I said that Ab needed to finish his education, but he just didn’t want to hear any of it. Then Gellert pulled out his gun, and I screamed at him to put it away, and Ab charged at him, trying to block his path to Ariana, who Gellert had always thought was a point of contention between the two of us. While Ab was struggling, Gellert was yelling, and I was screaming, and then a shot was fired. I turned around then, noticing that the path the bullet took was around Ab, and it got Ariana right in the heart. She was so small, so small, and she barely made a sound when she crumpled to the floor. Gellert dropped the gun, and Ab ran over to try and save Ariana, but it was far too late, far too late...”

“Sir?” Harry whispered.

He straightened in his high-backed chair. “Ariana breathed her last, I told Gellert to get out of the house, and Ab broke my nose for not keeping him there until the constables arrived to fetch him. His aunt, our mutual friend who introduced us, was found to have been harboring him, and I was forced to testify against him, as was Ab, and he never forgave me for any of it, especially at having to force him to relive it, up on the stand.” He hesitated. “Gellert was given a juvenile sentence of one year, because Ariana’s death was ruled an accident, and then he was released just after his eighteenth birthday, and remained quiet, on the bad side of the law, until he was twenty-one, when he was arrested again.”

“And your brother?” Harry asked him.

“Aberforth?” Dumbledore asked, slowly turning his gaze back onto Harry. “Owns a fairly well-known bar in Downtown London. The Hog’s Head,” he said with a shrug. “Doubles as an inn; they’ve rooms upstairs. Never the most sanitary of conditions, but Ab was always a better cook than he was a housekeeper.”

“You ever see him?”

The commissioner gave Harry a stiff nod. “Yes. Whenever I want to interview more shady characters, Ab lets me use the bar. We don’t talk much; he keeps a portrait of Ariana in the back room of the place, which serves as his living room. I don’t go back there; the portrait was commissioned just two months before her death; she had been sitting for it, the last session, earlier that day, before...” He bit at his lower lips, attempting to keep calm. “I cannot look at the dress she was wearing in the portrait, because all I can see is the bullet wound, and blood seeping onto the silk and chiffon...”

“You were young, you had no idea what he would become,” Harry said softly, but Dumbledore shook his head. “Just... Perhaps if you tried to speak to your brother...”

“I’ve tried,” the man said, cutting across him. “He won’t speak to me. But, no matter. I paid for his loan with the bank so that he could establish the restaurant, and I help him with his rent every now and again. As far as we’re concerned, we’re square.”

Harry excused himself shortly thereafter, making his way back to Severus’s office. He perched on the chair against the wall, with the makeshift desk he’d been provided with, and attempted to look over the files of known Riddle associates, but the words just swam on the pages, and he found that there was a pounding in his temples. He let out a soft moan, cradling his head in his hands, and tried to make an effort to concentrate, when a plate with a pre-wrapped sandwich was placed in front of him.

“There you are. Lunch,” said Severus, who had returned to the office when Harry hadn’t been looking around.

“I...”

“It’s roast beef. Draco mentioned it was a favorite of yours,” Severus said, crossing towards his own desk and digging into the sandwich he got. “Egg salad,” he informed Harry, answering the unanswered question as he bit into his own sandwich. Severus regarded the boy for a few moments as he chewed on his lunch, washing it down with a bottle of coke. “What’s going on with you today, Harry?” he asked him.

“M... Me, sir?” he asked.

Severus’s lips thinned. “Yes. You’re white as a ghost. Have you been sleeping well?”

Harry swallowed, slowly making an effort to unwrap his lunch, relieved for the bottle of water, for his file mentioned that carbonated beverages hurt his stomach. “I doubt I’ll be able to, after the meeting I had with Commissioner Dumbledore.”

Severus sighed, placing his sandwich back into the wrapping on his desk. “All right. What did the old man say to you?”

“He... I asked him about the phoenix painting,” he whispered.

Severus groaned. “Of all the stupid, infantile...” He stopped himself when Harry drew back at the harshness of his voice, and amended himself. “I apologize, Harry. I was sure that Lucius or Draco would have mentioned not to discuss with him.”

Harry shook his head. “Sorry. They didn’t.”

Severus dragged a hand down his face. “Well, it’s done with now.” He hesitated for a moment and watched as Harry picked at his lunch. “You all right?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know...”

“Well, perhaps if I told you something about me, Harry, it would ease your mind a bit,” Severus replied, already loathing himself for the suggestion.

Harry looked up at Severus, and he nearly came undone at the green eyes boring into his. “All right,” he agreed. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“I went to Eton, before I began my university education at Oxford,” Severus replied, before he picked up his sandwich again.

Harry’s mouth popped open automatically, to ask a follow-up question, but Severus seemed to be completely engrossed in his lunch. Unsatisfied, but knowing when not to push a man further, Harry turned to his own lunch, unwrapping it and taking a bite. As his head began to clear, his gaze returned to the files in front of him, as he continued chewing his sandwich. It was, after all, rather good.

~*~

Harry somehow managed to keep his head above water for the rest of the week, and it was a relief when the weekend had finally arrived. He went to the Malfoy Estate on Saturday, while Ginny was out at a long class, and helped Draco in taking care of Scorpius, Henrietta, and Desdemona. The three children warmed to Harry almost immediately, and his little namesake, Henrietta, became quite like Harry’s shadow, and even fell asleep in his lap.

When Sunday came, Harry permitted himself a bit of a lie-in, not having had one since he moved back to England or began his new job for Scotland Yard. He awoke around eleven, indulging in a jog around the borough of Islington, before returning for lunch with Sirius and Remus. After lunch, Harry jumped into the shower and looked over some case files for a few hours before Sirius told Harry that dinner was ready, and he immediately headed downstairs.

The roast dinner smelled incredible, and Harry didn’t need telling twice to sit down and tuck in to his portion. He listened to Sirius and Remus discuss their shopping trip earlier that afternoon, and how a lovely old woman gave them her secret recipe for gravy, which they were indulging in that very evening. Harry had to admit that it was incredible, and he hoped that Sirius and Remus would share it with him as soon as possible.

“So, tell us about work, Harry,” Remus said, spearing a carrot and looking across the table at him with a smile.

“Yes. You haven’t spoken too much about it, and Luc and Draco have remained pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing,” Sirius put in.

Harry swallowed his bite of roast, and gently set his cutlery down to answer the question. “It’s all right, I suppose. I don’t have my own office yet, but my partner has cleared a generous portion of his so that I can get some work done on a flat surface.”

“Luc mentioned that he was a senior member of Scotland Yard,” Sirius said.

Harry nodded. “He is. He’s a commander, just like Uncle Luc.”

“I wonder if we’re familiar with him,” Remus said softly, digging into his boiled potatoes as he considered it for a moment.

“He did go to Eton, and I think he’s around your age, so it’s entirely possible,” Harry said, lifting his cutlery again to cut another bite of the roast.

“Did he?” Sirius asked conversationally, moving his turnips around his plate as he listened to Harry’s vague description.

Harry nodded. “Yes. He graduated from Eton before attending Oxford.”

“Well, that was a substantial amount of the student body, Harry,” Remus said with a chuckle. “I mean, if I recall correctly, most of us went onto either Oxford or Cambridge.”

“Although Remy and I were the exception, for, as you know, we attended Leeds,” Sirius said with a smile in his partners’ direction. “So, Harry, what’s his name, then?” Sirius asked, inclining his head in Harry’s direction.

“Severus Snape,” Harry told him, meeting his adoptive father’s gaze.

Sirius dropped his cutlery then, the pale intensity of his eyes darkening almost immediately as he stared at his son. “Excuse me?”

“Siri,” Remus said from across the table.

“No, Remy— Severus Snape?!” he demanded of Harry.

Harry blinked, lowering his cutlery again, shocked at his adopted father’s outburst. “Well, yes. I don’t see any issue with it.”

“Of course you don’t,” Sirius huffed, pushing himself to his feet and proceeding to pace about the formal dining room. “I suppose Snivellus hasn’t informed you of his Eton days?”

Harry shook his head, attempting to wrap his head around the nickname, and quickly found that it rubbed him the wrong way. “No, he hasn’t. We’ve only just met, and he doesn’t seem to think that discussing our respective pasts is work appropriate.”

“That’s what he told you?!” Sirius sneered.

Remus got to his feet. “Siri, you need to calm down,” he told his lover gently, crossing the room towards him and gently running his hands up and down Sirius’s arms. “Harry doesn’t need to see your way of things all the time—”

“Quit being the peacemaker for one moment!” Sirius snapped, pulling away from Remus and turning back to Harry. “He was a terrible influence on the student body, Harry, and if it weren’t for your mother falling for your father—”

“Sirius!” Remus yelled.

“No, Remy—I _will_ tell him!” Sirius yelled back, and looked down at Harry. “Snape was in love with your mother, Harry, and he would stop at nothing to steal her away from your father!”

Remus dragged a hand down his face. “Sirius...”

“He... He was?” Harry whispered.

“They were best friends growing up,” Remus told Harry softly, shooting a glare in Sirius’s direction before turning back to the boy he considered his son. “Knew each other before school even began; they lived in the same area, in Cokeworth, located in the Midlands. “It was never confirmed or denied if Snape harbored romantic feelings towards your mother, but they were exceptionally close.”

“So, you’re saying it’s possible?” Harry queried.

“Of course it’s possible!” Sirius yelled. “They had a falling out when Snivellus called your mother the most despicable name you could ever call a woman, and she never spoke to him again. This was right after she discovered she was pregnant with you.”

Harry felt his blood run cold at the notion of Severus yelling at his mother, and his mother, likely hormonal and devastated because of the unexpected pregnancy, being told off for it by her best friend, instead of comforted for it. He couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like, had he been a teenage parent, and Draco said or did something along the lines of Severus. Not that he ever would, Harry knew his cousin better than that, but the notion in itself was devastating enough to even comprehend.

“What do you want me to do?” Harry asked, his tone quiet. “Commissioner Dumbledore paired us up for a reason, he must’ve. It would look bad on my record if I made an attempt to switch partners, especially so early in the partnership. It would be a permanent blemish on my career, Sirius...”

Remus looked back and forth between them, his anxiety seeping into his tone then as he forced himself to speak. “Sirius, you can’t expect Harry to...”

“No, I don’t,” Sirius replied, shooting a brief glance at Remus before turning back to regard Harry for a moment. “I take it you haven’t socialized with him much?”

Harry shook his head. “No, we haven’t. Most of our discussions revolve around the case itself, although he knows of my connection to Uncle Luc. Apparently, they’re best friends, and he’s a frequent guest at the estate, as Draco’s godfather.”

Sirius remained tight-lipped for a moment. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to jeopardize your career by requesting a different partner, although I wish it were that simple,” he went on, speaking in a much calmer manner than he had a few moments ago.

“Well, it’s not,” Harry replied, crossing his arms.

Sirius sighed, leaning against the doorframe, leading to the corridor, which ultimately led to either the kitchen, front door, or to the staircase. There was a wall positioned just over his right shoulder, and a door, which led directly into the living room, which too boasted a door, leading out into the corridor. Sirius and Remus had already begun the task of taking down the ghastly and dated floral wallpaper that Sirius’s mother, Walburga, had been especially obsessed with. It was a well-kept secret within the Black family that Orion and Walburga, Sirius’s parents, had been second-cousins, which is why Sirius was relieved that he had been gay, so that he wouldn’t have been forced to reproduce; it was also lucky, in a dark sort of way, that his younger brother, Regulus, had been murdered by Riddle’s gang in the late-1970’s, just months before Harry himself had been born.

“It is not just because of his... His rather inconsiderate treatment of your mother that I am warning you against Snape, Harry,” Sirius said quietly.

Remus swallowed. “Sirius, perhaps...”

Sirius turned and regarded his lover. “He has a right to know.”

“All right, then,” Harry said, getting to his feet and gripping the back of his chair. “Tell me. Why are you so against Severus?”

Sirius stiffened at the sound of his greatest enemies’ first name coming forth from the lips of his adopted son. Finally, after considering it, he shook his head. “Perhaps another time, Harry,” he said after a moment of silence. “However, I would advise you not to socialize with him outside of work, Harry. In fact, I forbid it,” he said, before turning on his heel and heading directly up the stairs.

Harry turned and looked at Remus. “Remus...”

Remus sighed, gently squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “I shall speak to him, Harry, I promise. But I know that you know as well as I do that Sirius will likely refuse to move.”

“Then, you must push him,” Harry replied simply. “I need to know what he has against Severus, Remus. I do.”

Remus stared into Harry’s eyes. “Something you want to tell me?”

Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Don’t know if there’s anything to tell just yet.”

Remus nodded. “Very well. I shall speak to Sirius,” he said, and turned to follow his lover up the staircase.

Harry sighed, turning around and regarding the table for a moment. It had been such a lovely dinner, before the past had crept up upon them. Shaking his head, Harry slowly began to gather up the dirty dishes and the linens to bring into the kitchen and laundry room respectively so that they would each be washed.

~*~

“Yes, Drake, I’ve got the bottle of wine,” Harry said, rolling his eyes from where he sat in the back seat of the Malfoy’s smaller limo.

“Sirius didn’t mind you taking one from the cellar?” Draco asked from the other end of the phone, and Harry could vaguely hear the shouts of their three children, and Ginny’s patient voice attempting to calm them.

“We haven’t really been speaking,” Harry admitted as the driver turned onto the final road, right before the estate.

“Haven’t been speaking? He’s your father!”

Harry sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yes, I know that, Drake, and he has been since I was fifteen-months-old.”

Draco sighed. “Sorry.”

Harry shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied, straightening in his seat as the limo passed through the black front gates. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

“Great,” Draco said, and cut the call.

Harry thanked the driver, waving him off and got out of the limo himself, and made his way to the front door, which Draco opened immediately, dressed in a smart dinner suit with a silvery tie that matched his eyes. Harry smiled at his cousin, handing over the bottle of wine before accepting the customary hug. “Come in. Dad’s just tiring the kids out, and you, me, and Ginny can have a couple drinks before we head to the restaurant.”

Harry nodded, following Draco inside and shutting the door behind them. “Where were you thinking tonight?” he asked, straightening his green tie, a gift from Ginny on the night he returned home, as it matched his eyes.

“Italian,” chorused Ginny as she trooped into the living room, wearing a green sweater dress which exposed her milk-white shoulders and hugged all her curves, and carefully holding three wine glasses of expensively-cut crystal, and the wine cork, which was tucked underneath her arm. “Oh, Harry,” she said warmly, setting down the glasses and cork onto the table and crossing the room to embrace him. She kissed him on the cheek, tutting slightly as she caught a glimpse of the tie he was wearing. “While I am pleased about this,” she said, quickly unknotting it and fixing it to her liking, “a Windsor Knot would be more appropriate.”

Harry blushed while Draco rolled his eyes from behind him.

“I know what you’re doing, dear,” Ginny stated softly, and continued to fix Harry’s tie, and Draco, completely abashed, lowered his eyes and proceeded to uncork the wine bottle.

“Anything special about the restaurant tonight?” Harry asked.

Ginny gleamed as she finished with Harry’s tie, and gently brushed off his sports coat for good measure. “Drake took me there on our sixth date, and informed me that he wanted to be exclusive with me,” she said softly.

“We split the black chocolate soufflé at the end of the meal,” Draco went on, finally managing to uncork the wine bottle, which popped ceremoniously, and proceeded to pour the wine—a fine pinot noir—carefully. “Needless to say, I was half in love with her already. Watching her eat the damn thing was the hottest thing I’d ever seen— Oi!” he shouted when Ginny smacked him on the arm.

“You’re lucky that none of my six brothers are here to hear you say that,” Ginny said, narrowing her pretty eyes at him, and accepting a glass of wine.

“Six?” Harry said, nearly choking on his sip. “I thought Ron was just...”

“Exaggerating?” Ginny asked with a smirk. “Not even close. Mum and Dad both grew up Catholic, and so...” She spread her hands.

Harry slowly eased himself into a chair, while Ginny and Draco took the couch. “I know about Ron, of course, but what about the others?”

“Bill works at a bank where he met his wife, Fleur,” Ginny explained with a smile. “They’ve got three children—Victoire, Dominique, and Louis.”

“Then there’s Charlie; lives in Romania,” Draco went on, putting an arm around his wife’s shoulders, who promptly moved to settle against him. “He got a degree in mythology and likes to spend his time painting. He’s made quite a living for himself.”

“Next came Percy,” Ginny resumed, and rolled her eyes, causing Harry to wonder if there was some bad blood between them. “He never approved of my relationship with Drake,” she said softly, placing her palm onto Draco’s knee, “and was livid when I came up pregnant the first time. He works for the government—barrister, just like Hermione, although he’s working his way up to parliament. He actually had the nerve to attempt to give _her_ advice, when he’s too pompous for his own good, and she’s just uncommonly bright. Perc married a few years back to a very patient woman named Audrey, and they have two daughters—Molly, named after our Mum, and Lucy.”

“Before Ron, the twins, Fred and George, were born,” Draco said, and Ginny became saddened at this line of conversation. “We lost Fred because of Riddle’s gang about seven years back. It’s George who surprisingly managed to bounce back, as much as one can; he married a one-time girlfriend of Fred’s, Angelina, and they’ve got a son, Fred, and a daughter, Roxanne. Fred runs his own joke shop emporium, and they’ve already expanded to Ireland and Scotland, and there are talks of America by the start of the year.”

Harry nodded as he continued sipping his wine. “I’m sorry, about Fred,” he said softly to Ginny, who smiled at him. “I know what it’s like to lose someone close to me.”

“Mum wants to meet you,” Ginny said with a smile. “She saw some of the pictures on Ron’s and my phones on the night you came back. Said you were too thin,” she said, and laughed. “Then she wanted to know all your favorite foods.”

“She likes to cook?” Harry guessed.

Draco smirked. “That’s part of it.”

“She also likes to mother,” Ginny explained. “Now that she’s only got Dad to take care of on a regular basis, she misses the hub-bub that the Burrow used to be.”

Harry blinked. “The Burrow?”

“Burrow Cottage and Farm, where I grew up, in Devon,” Ginny said brightly. “Mum tends to the pigs, chickens, sheep, and the rest of the animals, and sells the meat or eggs or wool that they provide her with.”

“And your dad?”

“Owns an automobile repair shop,” Ginny said with an indulgent smile. “Taught us all how to fix cars by the time we were ten.”

“Ginny here is the only one Dad trusts to fix the limo whenever it goes kaput,” Draco said with a loving glace towards his wife.

“You said you made a reservation?” Harry asked, coming to the end of his glass of wine.

“Yes, and we should get going,” Ginny said, getting to her feet. “You dad has the kids, Drake, so we can make a run for it,” she joked as they all put their wine glasses onto the table.

Draco nodded, grabbing Ginny’s wrap and carefully putting is around her, and the three of them walked out the door and back towards the limo. Slipping into the back seat, Draco inclined his head towards the driver. “Essenza, please, Boris,” he said to him.

“Yes, Master Draco,” said the driver, and pulled off the property.

“Half an hour for a restaurant?” Harry joked when they finally pulled up. “You must really like this place.”

Draco smirked as he helped Ginny from the car, and put an arm around her waist. “Sentimental value doesn’t count?”

Harry shrugged. “You tell me.”

The trio walked into the restaurant, which was lush with candlelight and white tablecloths, and the hostess twittered at the sight of Draco. “So good to see you again, Mr. Malfoy,” she said with a bright smile.

“Good evening, Mia,” Draco replied. “We’ve a reservation under ‘Malfoy’.”

“Oh, yes. Party of four,” Mia said with a smile, and Harry was slightly concerned at the notion that there would be fourth member in their dinner party that evening. “Your other guest has already arrived, and is at your usual table,” Mia went on, and collected three menus. “Right this way, please.”

Draco kept his hand on the small of Ginny’s back as they wandered towards the back of the restaurant, where the private booths were, Harry just behind them. When they got to their table, Mia placed the menus down, and told them that their waiter would be with them shortly. Draco beamed, letting Ginny go, and moved to greet the man sitting at the table already.

“Oliver!” he said warmly, giving the man a warm handshake and a clap on the shoulder, which the man returned. “Good to see you!”

“You as well, Drake, you as well,” said Oliver, his voice a rippling Scottish accent. “Gin,” he went on, just as warm, leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek. “It’s been ages.”

“Oliver,” Ginny said warmly, hugging him briefly before pulling back.

“Oliver, this is my cousin, Harry,” Draco said, and Ginny promptly pushed Harry forward, and Harry got the distinct impression that he was being setup, but forced a smile onto his face.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said, and accepted Oliver’s handshake. He was forced into the seat beside Oliver a moment later, and opened up his menu, sipping his water delicately.

“Drake tells me you spent most of your life in America.”

Harry skimmed the menu for a moment, deciding to start with a cup of minestrone soup, before he turned back to Oliver. “Yes. I was adopted by my godfather and raised by him and his partner from the time I was fifteen-months-old. They made the executive decision to move to America when I was still a baby, and I grew up there. Despite going through school, and Yale, and the police academy, never lost the accent,” he said, and laughed.

Oliver laughed back. “No, it doesn’t sound like you have.” He hesitated for a moment. “You work with Drake at Scotland Yard?”

Harry nodded, taking another sip of water. “I do,” he said. “On a case at the moment, but I can’t say more than that,” he said, and Oliver nodded in understanding. “And you, Oliver? What is it that you do?”

“Football,” Oliver said, “what the American’s call soccer. I went to Eton, and ended up as the student coach. Got spotted and sponsored during my final year there, ended up going onto the West End Football Club. Still working for them, and I’ve opted to remain there, until my legs or heart give out.”

Harry nodded, mulling over Oliver’s words, while all the while gazing at him. He was attractive, and anyone who denied that would be blind. Harry noted the intelligent brown eyes and pale brown hair—short, but still hung in waves upon his head—and couldn’t deny that the man next to him boasted a strong pair of hands, and eatable-looking legs. However, at the back of his mind, he couldn’t deny a pair of dark eyes, with silky-looking black hair, seemed to bore incessantly into his subconscious.

“Sounds like we’re in the same boat, career-wise,” Harry said, and smiled at him.

When they got back into the limo after dinner, Draco, who had had too much to drink, slumped down on Ginny’s shoulder, who patiently petted his hair. “What did you think of Oliver, then, Harry?” she asked.

Harry sighed. “Whose idea was it to set me up?”

Ginny bit her lip. “Drake’s,” she confessed, “but I was the one who mentioned Olivier the most recently.”

Harry nodded. “I see.”

“Are you angry?”

He shook his head. “No. Not angry.”

Ginny worried her lower lip. “Did you like him, then?”

“He’s a nice bloke, Gin. Handsome.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

Harry smirked, showing Ginny his phone, the words, _How do drinks next Friday sound_? looking back at her. “What does it look like?” he asked.

Ginny grinned at Harry, and then proceeded to make sure her husband wouldn’t be sick onto the fine leather upholstery of the Malfoy limo.

~*~ 

Harry did his best to avoid Sirius’s weird moods for the rest of the weekend, along with Remus’s idea of support, and, quite soon, it was Monday again. Harry arrived at Scotland Yard and made his way to the staff lounge, helping himself to the pot of coffee, hating its taste, but wanting it for its caffeine more than anything else. He perused the cabinets and fridge and made himself a small bowl of instant oatmeal; he had wanted to get out of Grimmauld Place as soon as possible that morning, and so, he had missed breakfast.

His phone rang in his pocket then, and he left off stirring the oatmeal for a moment to retrieve it from his pocket. “Hey, Dora,” he said, answering his cousin’s phone call.

“Wotcher, Harry,” Dora said on the other end of the phone, and Harry could practically hear the smile in her voice. “Blaise and I were hoping we could see you for lunch.”

Harry hummed slightly then, thinking it over. “I take my lunch from eleven to one, so yes, I think I can see you this afternoon. Late morning, whatever it’s called these days...”

“Positively smashing,” Dora chimed from the other end of the phone. “Drake mentioned your night on Saturday. Blaise and I want to hear all about it. You know that Drake and Blaise were best friends at Eton?”

Harry blinked. “Yeah, I think I remember hearing that,” he said softly, turning slightly when he saw Severus practically gliding into the room.

“Drake said Oliver Wood was your date!” Dora shouted on the other end of the phone, and Harry didn’t even miss Severus stiffening as he poured himself a coffee. “He was absolutely _splendid_ on the football team, back at Eton. Blaise and I had our first date at a game.”

“But Drake and Ron said that you’d only just gotten together,” Harry said lamely, hoping to change the subject, but Severus merely sneered at his efforts and drifted from the room, which caused him to wince.

“It was off and on during school,” Dora put in quietly. “We didn’t make it official until a few months back. We just had to find each other again.”

Harry somehow managed to wrap up the conversation accordingly, letting Dora know that he would meet her and Blaise at a British pub they favored, The Leaky Cauldron. He’d heard plenty about it since his return, but didn’t know offhand what to expect. After cutting the call, Harry wolfed down his oatmeal and freshened his coffee before trekking to the office he shared with Severus, his files that he’d managed to skim over the weekend tucked inside his messenger bag as he walked in.

“Morning,” Harry said.

Severus grunted in response.

Not allowing it to get to him, Harry moved towards his makeshift work area and hung his messenger bag in its place on the peg that Severus had provided him with. “How was your weekend?” he went on, all in a causal manner.

“Quiet.”

Harry swallowed, something in his superiors’ attitude letting him know that Severus was literally calling for quiet in that moment. However, Harry wouldn’t have been Harry if he didn’t make a third attempt, and so, he swiveled around in his desk chair as he took off his jacket. “Do anything fun over the weekend?” he asked.

Severus let out a soft sigh of exasperation in his throat. “Fun is immaterial,” he muttered, and pinched at the bridge of his nose. It was a particularly long thing, which appeared to have been broken along the bridge, and not fixed correctly, and while some may have believed it was an ugly thing, Harry thought, in his innermost thoughts, that it was beautiful. “Do you ever cease in your chattering?”

Harry nibbled at his bottom lip; heaven forbid if this man ever put his chemistry degree to use and became a professor. “It all depends on whether or not I get an acceptable answer to my chatter, I suppose,” he replied with a shrug.

“A four-syllable word, marvelous,” Severus observed dryly. “Did you consult a dictionary for that one, or was it merely a thesaurus?”

Harry gripped the arms of his desk chair, determined not to allow Severus’s cutting demeanor get to him. “Something up your arse today, Severus?” he asked, immediately clamping his hands over his mouth before he could stop the words.

Severus finally stopped marking whatever file he’d been engrossed in, and slowly raised his head to meet Harry’s eyes. “Excuse me?”

Harry, knowing that there was no turning back now, slowly lowered his hands from where they’d been upon his mouth. “Oh, I think you heard me.”

Severus’s jaw clenched then, and Harry fully expected the man to blow but, like so many things recently, Severus surprised him. “I merely am worried for the company you’ve decided to keep over the weekend.”

Harry straightened up then, his dark brows furrowing. “What?”

“Eloquent as ever,” Severus remarked with a slight hum. “I should inform you that I have been best friends with Lucius Malfoy since I took on this position.”

“You’re best friends with Uncle Luc?” Harry whispered, feeling himself flushing in a most unbecoming manner.

“Yes, I believe I just said that,” Severus replied impatiently. “I am also godfather to his son, Draco, and served as a mentor of sorts during his school years at Eton. Chemistry can be a difficult subject for some, and so Draco turned to me in order to achieve some halfway decent tutoring sessions.”

Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair, remembering the few gatherings at Malfoy Estate he’d gone to in his years of living in America, when he’d returned for the holidays and some sporadic summers, and how he suddenly seemed to remember Severus, standing beside his Uncle Luc in conspiratory-sounding conversations. Now, he was not a faceless man in impressively-cut black suits and a haughty stare; now, he was Severus Snape. “I remember you at some of the parties I attended,” Harry admitted softly.

“Yes. You were often seen at Draco’s side, when Mr. Zabini was unavailable.”

“Blaise?” Harry asked.

“Precisely.”

Harry rolled the wheels of his desk chair slightly upon the cheap rug of the office, mulling over Severus’s past statements. “You mentioned your worry for the company I keep.”

“Yes.”

“What’s the matter with it?”

Severus sneered then, causing Harry to draw back slightly. “I was made aware of your date with football star, Oliver Wood.”

Harry shrugged. “Drake thought we should meet. They’re old friends.”

“Of course, as they attended Eton together, and Oliver served as Draco’s student coach during his time on the team,” Severus explained. “However, you should be made aware of all the facts before you’re involved in something you can’t get out of.”

Harry arched a brow. “I don’t understand.”

“No, I didn’t believe you would,” Severus said, jumping onto Harry’s apparent naivety. “Oliver has been publicly linked to Barty Crouch, Jr. since their Eton days.”

“The MP’s son?” Harry asked.

Severus gave a stiff nod. “The same. The longest they broke up was a period of six months. They always seem to find their way back to one another.” He sighed. “Look, I’m not telling you this because I seek to hurt you. I’m telling you this because you have a right to know.”

“A right to know what?”

“That the young man that Draco wishes you to affiliate yourself with, through no fault of your own, is a playboy,” Severus informed him. “He’ll have a few dalliances a year until Barty Crouch Jr. makes it known that he wants him back, and Wood will come running. He always does, and he always will.”

Harry sighed. “I barely know him...”

“Doesn’t matter,” Severus said, looking him up and down. “You’re just his type when it comes to a fling,” he said, before getting up and leaving the office.

~*~ 

The Clove Club was a posh restaurant in Downtown London, and it was there that Harry agreed to meet Oliver for their first official solo date. He felt slightly uncomfortable in his new suit, that Ginny and Dora had helped him pick out during one of his lunch breaks earlier that week, and slightly fingered the tie that Hermione had selected for him. He had also looked up the restaurant at length and, after discovering it was one of those frou-frou tasting menu places, had had a sandwich beforehand, just to make sure he didn’t starve.

Upon walking inside to the grand piece of architecture, he was promptly led to the table that Oliver had on permanent reserve for him, and was greeted warmly with a half-embrace and a kiss on the cheek. Oliver waited for Harry to sit before he did so, and thanked the host for providing Harry with a menu. It was the final Saturday of the month, and, since it was September, it was already quite dark outside.

“Is the wine all right?” Oliver asked.

Harry lifted his glass and inspected the red for a moment, before taking a sip. “Delicious. Is it a merlot?” he asked.

Oliver nodded. “Yes. Very good.”

“Sirius and Remus are very into their wine,” Harry said with a laugh. “The Black family has an impressive collection in their basement. I could show you sometime.”

Oliver smiled. “That would be lovely.” He hesitated for a moment. “Look, Drake didn’t air out all of your dirty laundry or anything before he introduced us. He just said that your parents were gone and that your godfather adopted you, and then moved you, him, and his boyfriend to the States when you were still small. I know that you went to Yale, before joining the New York Police Force, and now you’re working for Scotland Yard.”

Harry nodded, lowering his menu slightly. “So, you’re asking me to tell you more information about myself?”

Oliver nodded. “Only if you’re comfortable. And I’ll answer anything you want answered as well. Don’t believe everything you read in the rags.”

Harry sighed. “It’s... It’s not a happy story, Oliver.”

Oliver smiled, reaching out and gently touching Harry’s hand. “Try me.”

Harry bit his lip. “Could you go first?”

Oliver nodded at him with a quick smile. “Yes, of course.” He hesitated for a moment. “Well, both my parents attended Eton, and so that’s where I went. I’m an only child, although I’d always wanted a few younger sisters; Mum and Dad either didn’t want or couldn’t have more children, apparently. Mum passed away when I was in my final year at Eton due to cancer, and my father, a judge in the courts in London, subsequently devoted all of his time to his cases. I finished at Eton and played football professionally. I only see my father for Christmas, and any occasional birthday, mine or his, I can get his secretary to schedule on my behalf. He remarried a few years ago, and I’ve two younger brothers—Theo and Richard—but I don’t know them, even though they now attend Eton, and they use their surname for bragging rights, letting anyone know who their elder brother is, despite the fact that I’m not in their lives. Dad and I haven’t seen much of one another, because his wife doesn’t want him to see me; really hated my mum, apparently, but I don’t know the full story there. My teammates became my family as soon as I joined them, and I just want to find a decent bloke to date. I hope for marriage, if it is ever legalized for people like me, and children, if that’s what my future partner wants. I suppose that football is what I’m dedicated most to, out of everything...”

Harry smiled slightly then. “Guess I’m just glad that I’m not the only one with a tragic backstory of some kind.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “That bad?”

Harry gave him a nervous laugh. “The nitty-gritty, then?”

Oliver nodded. “Of course.”

“My parents were murdered when I was fifteen-months-old, to the day,” Harry said quietly, and Olivier looked overcome with empathy, and didn’t let go of Harry’s hand, not that Harry minded, but he found he would’ve much preferred another pair of hands on his. “I don’t really remember much about them, but I do have photographs, and Sirius and Remus were my father’s best friends, so that helps. They got me because of the Black family’s team of lawyers, who wouldn’t normally give a same-sex couple a child, but the money won out in the end. I wasn’t even two when we decided to take the leap and move to the States, and I went through all my schooling there, including university, as you know. I met my first official boyfriend at Yale; he actually went to Eton as well. Do you know of Cedric Diggory?”

Oliver nodded. “Yes. He took over as student coach after I graduated. One of the most intelligent students that Eton had ever seen. Headmistress McGonagall made sure to give him all the awards, either for academics or sport, when it came right down to it...”

_Not smart enough to keep it in his pants_, Harry thought bitterly. “I was the boyfriend he was living with—dubbed as a close friend in all the papers, because he wasn’t out fully to his parents—when he was killed,” Harry said softly.

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry shook his head. “It was a long time ago,” he said quickly. “He was seeing someone else by the time that happened, but I never confronted him on it. I... I don’t think I ever loved him,” he admitted, shocked that he was admitting it aloud for the first time. “It wasn’t just because of the pain he caused, or the lack of chemistry between us. I just think it was all the lies, because, I think, without trust, there is no relationship...”

Oliver sighed, his deep brown eyes full of compassion for Harry. “Look, I know it’s kind of soon, Harry, but...”

“Yes?” Harry asked, looking up to meet his gaze.

“I... I would like to see you again,” he said quietly.

Harry smiled slowly then, although it did not completely meet his eyes. “I’ll see you again, Olivier,” he told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the link to the phoenix painting. I hope I did it justice!
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/zoebordercollie/art/03-Phoenix-Oil-Painting-547622720


	3. Secrets and Lies

Harry and Oliver talked that Sunday night, after a rather awkward and uncomfortable Sunday dinner at Grimmauld Place, with Sirius shooting Harry dirty looks, Harry ignoring them, and Remus throwing up his hands and scolding them both. Finally, when most of his dinner was finished, Harry shoved his napkin upon the tabletop, his phone vibrating in his pocket, and went towards the staircase. He hadn’t gotten very far when Sirius came up behind him, taking him roughly by the shoulder and turning him around, causing Harry to shake him off.

“Tell me. Is that Snape?” Sirius demanded.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?” he asked, deathly quiet.

“Siri, don’t,” Remus said, coming up behind him.

“Not now, Remy,” Sirius replied, not even looking at his lover as his blue eyes gazed down at his adopted son. “Is it or is it not Severus?”

“For the love of...” Harry yanked his phone out of his pocket, and jabbed it at Sirius’s face, to which Sirius stared at him in shock. “Drake introduced me to someone from Eton. His name is Oliver Wood.”

“The football player?” Remus asked.

“Yeah, him,” Harry said, pulling his phone back and glaring at Sirius. “What I do in my personal life shouldn’t have any bearing on you. I pay my own way, and used my inheritance to cover the university costs that my academic scholarships wouldn’t. I successfully managed to pay you both back for the private school education you insisted I get overseas, and the only thing I ever let you buy me without back payment was my flat near Yale. I’ve never asked you for anything, in all my years, but I’m invoking it now. Stay out of my romantic relationships if you feel so negatively about them!”

“It’s not that we feel so negative about them, Harry,” Remus said gently.

Sirius dragged a hand through his dark, wavy hair. “It’s Cedric,” he said, and Harry felt something slamming inside him then. “You were just so... You were so distant and closed off after he was murdered. Remus and I were so worried about you, and you refused to open up to us, or consult the therapist we’d found.”

“That’s because I didn’t need it,” Harry growled. “According to Cedric, he didn’t want anyone to know about us, because I couldn’t...”

“You couldn’t what, Harry?”

“No, Remus, I... I can’t,” Harry said, pushing past them both and charging up the staircase, to his bedroom, and slammed the door. He was shaking as he locked it behind him, and carefully took his phone out of his pocket, which had begun vibrating again. This time, it was for a phone call, not an incoming text message, and he sighed, waiting to calm down before he opened up the phone and pressed it against his ear. “Hey, Oliver,” he said into the receiver.

~*~ 

Harry managed to avoid Sirius and Remus for the rest of the week, by working late on the case files on potential low-level members of Tom Riddle’s gang, in order to find a way in to get Narcissa Black-Malfoy back. Of course, it didn’t help that Narcissa’s own sister, Bellatrix Lestrange, who had successfully managed to convince a parole board from Broadmoor Hospital that she was sane enough to be released, only to go back to Tom Riddle’s side and go into hiding. Despite her long-standing marriage to a fellow member of Riddle’s gang, Rodolphus Lestrange, it was widely suspected that Rodolphus would look the other way while his wife engaged in an affair with Riddle.

Harry was slightly startled when a plate of fish and chips was placed beside him, and turned to see Severus entering the office once again, a travel cup of hot tea steaming in his other hand. He nodded his thanks to his superior, carefully putting away the important documents so as not to get the salt and vinegar scent upon them too terribly, and put them aside, before pulling his lunch towards him. “You really should let me treat you sometimes,” Harry said, giving a small smile towards Severus.

Severus inclined his head. “Indeed?”

“Yes. After all, it’s only fair,” Harry said with a shrug to Severus, cutting into his fish with the plastic utensils. “What do you fancy?”

“Indian,” Severus said softly.

Harry nodded, making a mental note to ask Drake or Ginny about some suitable Indian restaurants that did take-out in the vicinity. “Monday, then,” he said.

Severus bowed his head. “Very well.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Curry would be just fine,” he replied.

Harry smiled; thankfully, he knew what that was, and he wouldn’t have to appear completely inept as he shoved a bite of fish into his mouth. He chewed for a moment, swallowing the bit of fried protein, and mulled over his next words carefully. “Mind if I ask you more about your past?” he asked casually.

Severus inclined his head. “I am feeling unusually generous today,” he said softly. “I suppose I can allow a question or two, depending on the subject-matter.”

“Why chemistry?”

Severus shifted slightly in his chair. “I beg your pardon?”

“Why did you select chemistry as one of your majors at Oxford?”

Severus sipped at his tea for a moment before putting the travel mug onto his desk, whereupon he folded his hands beside it, and considered it. “No one has asked me that before, not since an old friend... He died.”

Harry swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”

Severus waved it away. “It was a long time ago now,” he said, shaking his head. “To answer your question, Harry, it was because I was bloody good at it. It served as a distraction from a less-than-savory childhood.”

“Less-than-savory?”

Severus gave a brief nod. “Indeed. My mother left her rich and upstanding family to marry a poor factory worker and, as such, was disowned. Her family was right, however, and perhaps if she had not given into flights of fancy for a love affair in springtime, she would have seen Tobias Snape for what he really was—an abusive alcoholic who would take out his rages of constant unemployment and poverty upon his wife and son.”

Harry lowered his utensils; he had already finished one piece of his fish, and a few handfuls of the chips, but he had suddenly lost his appetite at what Severus was saying to him. “And... And that son was you?”

“I didn’t have any brothers, if that’s what you’re asking, Harry. No sisters either,” Severus said, answering the unspoken question between them.

“You mentioned a friend...”

“Before Lucius, who was several years ahead of me at Eton and didn’t really know of me, I had two friends to speak of. One was a girl I had a severe falling-out with when I was fifteen, when I called her the worst thing you could ever call a woman. I once believed myself to be in love with her, but I found out she’d selected a different path in life, a path which would forever link her to my greatest tormentor in school. She made her choice, and I made mine, and we never spoke again. She is gone now.”

“Was she the friend you spoke of earlier?”

Severus raised his eyes slowly. “No. No, the other friend I spoke of helped me come to terms with my sexuality. He, too, was in my year at Eton, and it was a wonderful romance. We were together three years, before his death took him away from me. I’ll never forget how freeing and wonderful it was, being myself...”

“I suppose being yourself wasn’t easy, given that it was in the 1980’s, and people were less-than-tolerant of such things back then...”

“Indeed,” Severus said again. “Nowadays, things are easier. We may not have the right to marry yet, but it is certainly easier, to be sure.”

“So, this second friend of yours, he helped you?”

“Yes. I was sixteen, and my former best friend was married and expecting a child. We were all so young, but each family in the union approved, likely because there was a baby on the way. I didn’t really speak to her much after that, and I only knew about it because my significant other was the brother of the best friend of my tormentor.”

Harry swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Not like you, apparently.”

Harry blinked, shifting in his chair. “I don’t understand.”

“It seems as though, despite my warnings, you saw fit to continue seeing Mr. Wood. All the tabloids over the past week have been featuring the two of you. You even made the Sunday evening post, Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t see a problem. If anything, we’re just getting to know each other, and, despite your concerns, you need not be.”

“He is a tomcat, Harry,” Severus said firmly, and the possessiveness in his tone caused Harry’s spine to tingle in a most appealing way. “Or the homosexual equivalent of one. What you must understand is, he will ultimately return to his former lover.”

Harry sighed. “Well, no promises have been made on either end, other than my acceptance to have another meal with him. We just talk...”

“You just talk?”

“Yes. I mean, I gave him my backstory—not about the case,” he said, and Severus visibly relaxed at that. “Besides, he’s in Wales right now, and then he’ll go onto Ireland, in order to play a few games.”

“How can he possibly not be interested in your career, when you evidently know something about his own?”

Harry shrugged. “He knows who I work for, however, and that I’m on a case, but I stated that I couldn’t discuss it.”

Severus’s lips thinned. “And what is your backstory, Harry?”

Harry spread his hands. “It’s all in my file, essentially. Dead parents, adopted by my gay godfather at fifteen-months-old. Raised by him and his partner overseas in America. Graduated from Yale University, and began my work for the New York Police Force. Then, I took a transfer here instead of accepting a promotion to detective.”

Severus hummed. “That’s your full backstory?”

“My lover was knifed in an alley, before I graduated from Yale,” Harry said, practically tasting the bitterness in his tone. “That enough for you?” he asked, his voice trembling as he shot to his feet. “Or, get this, I was actually in the house when my parents were murdered? I was upstairs asleep, and they were shot on the main floor,” he went on, crossing towards Severus’s desk and slamming his fists upon its surface. “Sirius later told the press that I was over at his place for the night, and Scotland Yard opted to release that information instead, in case Riddle or his followers deemed it appropriate to come after me eventually. Oh, and yeah, I have a vendetta in this case—bring Tom Riddle to justice and avenge my parents’ deaths. That enough for you, Severus?!”

Severus stared up at Harry, his jaw dropped in pure disbelief. “I was unaware that you were in the house upon that night, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes flashed then, looking shocked. “What are you talking about? Why would it matter if I was in the house or not?”

“No reason,” Severus said, suddenly closing himself off. He made a grab for his travel mug, the impenetrable mask in place once more, before he swept out of their shared office, leaving Harry more confused than ever before.

~*~

Despite their falling out the previous week, a truce had been given after Harry had managed to find some halfway decent chicken curry, which Severus declared to be delicious. Later on the following week, as they continued sifting through files and going through the various take-out restaurants close by, they were eating Chinese food one day, the chopsticks and white cardboard boxes having since been put to the side, while they perused the list of Tom Riddle’s known and established followers. Most of the males of Riddle’s gang, who had been successfully captured throughout the years, had been locked away in Manchester, but Harry came across an old newspaper article, hidden among the files.

“Severus, did you know about this?” he asked him carefully, and looked at the article’s title and the attached image. “_Mass Breakout of Manchester Prison Leads Officials to Believe That Tom Riddle is on the Rise Again_,” he said softly.

Severus inclined his head. “I heard something about that, yes. What else does the article manage to tell you, Harry?”

Harry swallowed, looking over the article again. “‘_It appears that failure to train a new guard properly, according to reports, is the reasoning behind this massive breakout, with more than two-dozen prisoners unaccounted for. While the senior guard took role call yesterday morning, he discovered that several key players in Tom Riddle’s gang—the serial killer who identifies himself to the press and authorities as ‘Lord Voldemort’—are officially being declared missing by the prison system, and Scotland Yard. Among the missing are Antonin Dolohov, Thorfinn Rowle, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, and Peter Pettigrew. Many lesser known prisoners escaped last night, according to the senior guard, but they will not be releasing their names at this time, as those prisoners are considered low-risk, due to the non-violent nature of the crimes they committed. People are instructed to remain as vigilant as possible, and to remember as clearly as they can how these members of Riddle’s gang look like. Do not send your children out alone, and the various boroughs are suggesting a curfew of no later than after dark_...’”

“What is the date on that paper, Harry?” Severus asked.

Harry looked up at the top of the paper. “It’s dated the nineteenth of January, of 1996,” he said quickly, and immediately delved through the files to check and see if there was a follow-up article, and said, “Ah-ha!” when he found it. Scanning the words, he reported to Severus that Peter Pettigrew ended up being the only member of the gang that didn’t manage to evade capture by the authorities, and was caught just six months later. “Well, that narrows it down,” Harry observed quietly.

Severus sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Only slightly.”

“My boys,” Albus said, suddenly bursting into their shared office. “There has been an urgent update on the case. Come with me.”

Harry and Severus looked at each other for a moment but immediately moved to follow Albus, who made his way promptly to the staff room, where the television on top of the fridge was turned onto the main news network. Lucius, Draco, Ron, Dean, and Seamus were all clustered about as well, and Severus moved to stand with Albus and Lucius, while Harry took the available spot between Draco and Ron.

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

“Some bloke escaped from Manchester again,” Ron whispered back.

“Again?” Harry demanded.

“Hush, Harry,” Draco said, squeezing Harry’s arm for a moment, “and listen.”

A newswoman with too much makeup and overly teased hair immediately became the focus of the camera, and she was standing in the car park of Manchester Prison. “Good afternoon. I’m Sarah Watts, here with a special report, direct from Her Majesty’s Manchester Prison. Earlier this morning, we were given reports that one of the beds turned up empty during the routine check upon the hour of breakfast. Initially thinking that the gentleman in question had simply gone to the infirmary, it seems as though he has engineered a daring escape. Convicted murderer Peter Pettigrew,” she went on, and a mugshot of the man in question appeared on the screen, with beady eyes, a less-than-satisfactory complexion, wispy and pale blond hair, weak and rodent-like teeth, and an overall simpering demeanor, “has been found out to be this missing and escaped man, according to the prisons’ warden. Pettigrew, who was given an indefinite life sentence back in mid-1982 for the 1981 for the mass murder of twelve people, due to a pipe bomb he planted, which was ultimately set off upon the streets of London, escaped once before in January of 1996,” she said, showing footage of Pettigrew’s arrest and subsequent court appearances over the years, along with those of the other escaped members of the gang, “along with several other supporters of the notorious gang leader Tom Riddle, otherwise known as ‘Lord Voldemort’. Pettigrew was the only member re-captured, and he was transferred to another prison in Ireland for a time, but was moved back here in late-2003. As for reports about potential whereabouts of Pettigrew, none are forthcoming so far. It is known that he keeps in touch with members of the gang, as evidenced by the correspondence letters that were found beneath Pettigrew’s mattress in his cell. Police are on the lookout for him, and we ask that you continue to stay with us for further updates. I’m Sarah Watts, reporting from Her Majesty’s Manchester Prison,” she said, and the news logo overtook the screen.

“Turn it off,” Lucius said softly then, his voice devoid of any emotion as he stood, stock-still between Severus and Commissioner Dumbledore. “Turn that off, please.”

Albus stepped forward then, switching off the television and looking grave. “Lucius, in light of the circumstances, if you would like to leave...”

“Yes,” Lucius said firmly, turning about and taking both Draco and Harry by the shoulders, and propelling them out. “Go to your respective offices and gather your things.”

“Father, perhaps if...”

“I will take the limo back to the estate, Draco,” Lucius said softly, cutting across his son as he squeezed his shoulder, as Ron stepped out into the hallway. “Perhaps it would be prudent if Mr. Weasley gave you a lift to the Burrow.”

“Yes, sir,” Ron said, stepping forward. “Mum and Dad haven’t seen Drake in quite a bit, and I know they would like to meet Harry...”

“That sounds all right with me,” Harry replied, realizing that Lucius probably needed some time to himself, in light of the news report. He stepped forward, embracing him for a quick moment before stepping away once more. “I’m here if you need anything, Uncle Luc,” he said, and motioned for Ron to follow him, as he went to fetch his things from his office. “Your parents won’t mind the unexpected guests?” he asked, slipping the case files he’d been working on into his messenger bag, and gathering up his coat.

Ron shook his head. “No, of course she won’t. She misses having the seven kids at home to take care of. She always makes too much food anyhow.”

“What’s on the menu tonight?” Harry asked with a small smile.

“Shepherd’s Pie,” Ron said with a grin. “That okay?”

“Brilliant,” Harry told him with a nod, stepping out into the hallway again, Ron leaving for a moment to gather his own things from his work station with Lucius, just as Severus, Seamus, Dean, and Commissioner Dumbledore slipped into the latter’s office. Harry approached Draco, now standing on his own at the end of the hallway, all ready to leave. “Did you bring the town car?” he asked.

“No, I drove him in today,” Ron explained, coming up behind them and removing his phone from his pocket. “Ah. ‘Mione’s waiting for us. Let’s go, then.”

“Gin’s been at the Burrow the entire day with the kids,” Draco put in as they meandered towards the lifts, which would ultimately take them to the lobby, where Hermione was waiting. “It’ll be nice to see the wife...”

“She still buried in those essays?” Harry asked.

Draco smirked. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“I took a fair amount of English and history courses, Drake,” Harry said, gently nudging his cousin in the ribs as they stepped into the lift, once it arrived. “Believe me, even though I didn’t seek a degree in either subject, I had to write plenty of essays in my time.”

“Not Ron,” Draco said, still smirking.

The redhead narrowed his eyes. “Oi!”

“Hermione did a lot of his work for him,” Draco informed Harry.

“Hey, she was _always_ the brains!” Ron said, annoyance trickling into his tone, just as the doors of the lift opened, and Hermione stood there, tapping her foot. Ron turned red to his ears and stepped forward, kissing her cheek. “Hello, love. Nice day?”

“Part of being a successful barrister is having decent hearing, Ronald,” Hermione said, her brown eyes flashing with temporary annoyance. “Drake,” she said, brushing past her fiancé and embracing Draco. “I’m so sorry to hear about... Well, everything.”

“Just wish I could figure it out,” Harry said softly as Draco and Hermione hugged, broke apart, and then permitted the foursome to go outside into the mid-afternoon overcast day.

“Figure out what?” Draco wanted to know.

Harry dragged a hand through his messy hair as they wandered towards where the designated street parking was for the employees of Scotland Yard, raising his eyebrows at the blue Ford Anglia, which Ron promptly unlocked, and opened the passenger doors for Hermione. “Guess I feel like I’m going mad. Must be all the hours...”

“You cannot possibly permit yourself to go mad, Harry,” Hermione admonished gently as she straightened her knee-length skirt, and brought her briefcase into her lap. “I’m sure you’re positively knackered at the end of the day, but don’t lose yourself.”

“She’s right, mate,” Ron said, watching as Harry and Draco got into the backseat and buckled up promptly, while Ron got into the driver’s seat.

“What’s bothering you, Harry?” Draco asked considerately, as Ron expertly pulled out of the parking space and onto the stretch of road which would ultimately lead them to the Burrow Cottage and Farm.

Harry swallowed, leaning up against the leather seat and mulling it over in his mind. “It’s the name, out of all things.”

“What name, Harry?” Hermione asked, turning around and looking at him.

“Peter Pettigrew,” Harry said, attempting to smooth down his hair. “I’m sure I’ve heard people talking about it. My godfather and his partner, they must’ve said it...”

“With Sirius and Remus so close to my dad, it’s not unlikely,” Draco said, reaching between them and squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “They probably just brought it up when that rat escaped the last time, and that’s where you heard it.”

Harry nodded, forcing a smile onto his face. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said, almost convincing himself of Draco’s theory. “I mean, we were around fifteen the last time Pettigrew managed to escape, right? We all had our own things to worry about.”

“I was sixteen already, but I see your point,” Hermione said with a soft smile. “The teenage years are complex ones, in a nutshell, not just because of academic ones, but social ones as well. It’s so sad that, when we look back, what we deemed important then, doesn’t seem nearly as so now, and, quite frankly, is downright laughable.”

Harry smiled at her. “You’re right, Hermione. Quite laughable.”

The rest of the drive was spent mostly in silence, only broken a couple of times when Ron would mention a landmark or two on the rest of the way. Finally, they drove onto a dirt road, with many trees thickening the longer they drove down it, and, finally, came to a vast clearing. At the center of it all, a sign proclaiming it to be so, was the Burrow Cottage and Farm, with an old barn house with massive stables and pig pens and other various places for animals to roam stationed beyond, and Ron pulled to a stop beside a couple of other vehicles.

“Come on out, then,” Ron said, helping Hermione from her side of the car, and Draco and Harry didn’t need telling twice. “Mum! We’re here!” Ron called, using a key to unlock the door and step inside, an arm around Hermione’s waist as they trooped into a very homey-looking living room, which Harry found that he loved.

“Ron!” came a shout, and a woman bustled into the room, shoulder-length red hair and expressive brown eyes the most distinctive features about her as she charged forward, pulling her youngest son into her arms. She pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling back, enveloping Hermione into another warm embrace, before she took ahold of her future daughter-in-law’s elegant left wrist. “I see that my son finally got you an engagement ring with a diamond on it. I am very proud,” she said, and Hermione flushed becomingly. “Oh, Draco,” she said, motioning for Ron and Hermione to walk deeper inside the house, and embraced her only son-in-law with a quick hug. “How are you holding up, dear?”

“Father is worse,” Draco said softly.

The woman nodded. “Well, I know things will work out the way that they’re supposed to, my dear,” she declared, before pulling back and looking Harry up and down. “And who do we have here?” she asked, still smiling.

“Mum, this is my cousin, Harry Potter,” Draco said to his mother-in-law. “He was adopted by Sirius when he was fifteen-months-old.”

“Oh, of course,” Molly said, and quickly enveloped Harry into her arms, and Harry was surprised at how pleased he was with the turn of events. “I remember you from a Malfoy family gathering a few years ago. You were much younger then.”

“Yes, of course,” Harry told her, and pulled away from Molly once she had turned him lose. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Weasley.”

“None of that, my dear boy, none of that. Call me ‘Molly’, please,” she said, putting a caring arm around Harry and Draco’s shoulders and leading them into the house, where delicious smells emitted from the kitchen beyond. “Arthur, darling!”

A middle-aged man, close in height to Ron and with equally red hair, stepped out of the kitchen with a smile. He wore trousers, a white T-shirt, and a tartan flannel around his shoulders, while his feet were occupied with brown work boots. “Draco,” the man said as he laid eyes upon his son-in-law, and shook his hand warmly, clapping him on the shoulder, before he turned and regarded Harry. “And who are you?”

“Oh, sorry, sir. I’m Harry, sir. Harry Potter,” Harry said, almost breathlessly, hating the notion of essentially being on display.

“Good lord,” Arthur said, a familiarity lurking just behind his kind eyes. “Are you really?” He smiled then as Harry nodded slightly, and accepted his handshake. “Well, Ron’s told us all about you, of course,” he went on, almost dragging Harry away from his wife and gesturing him to sit beside Draco at the large table in the kitchen.

“Not much to talk about, I’m afraid,” Harry said with a nervous laugh. “Hey, Ginny,” he said, reaching around Draco to embrace her. “And these must be my godchildren.”

“That’s correct,” Ginny said, beaming as she motioned to them. “Scorpius Abraxas, our rather mischievous son,” she said, indicating the first child, who was Draco in miniature, “and our lovely daughters, Henrietta Cedrella and Desdemona Andromeda,” she finished. “My darlings, say hello, like Mummy told you.”

“Hello, Uncle Harry,” Scorpius said, getting to his feet and offering his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Harry smiled, touched as he took the hand of the boy, seeing the spark of mischief behind his refined expression, knowing that he was definitely part-Weasley. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Scorpius,” he said to his godson. He turned then to the girls, who were staring, open-mouthed, at the exchange. “Hello, there,” he said.

At only two, the redheaded girls stared for a moment, before speaking. “Hi, Unca Harry,” they said, and giggled effectively.

Harry smiled, waving to them both before he forced himself to sit, while Molly brought over their dinner, which Arthur cut up and served to them all. He had to admit, he had never tasted anything so wonderful. It felt as if, for a few precious moments, that Harry knew what his life would have been like, had he not moved to the States as a toddler.

~*~

After spending a significant period of time with Severus canvassing the areas that Pettigrew could be hiding out, the pair had come up with nothing so far, which caused definite frustrations on both ends. Thankfully, Albus seemed to understand where said feelings were coming from, and did not seek to push either person. He claimed that they had time, but a nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him that Riddle was operating on a different schedule, meaning that Narcissa’s time could potentially be running out.

Harry had been vaguely following Oliver’s games in Wales and Ireland, and Ron, who was an avid fan of the sport, bonded with Harry over seeing Oliver. Harry found out that Ron had played for the team while attending Eton, as did his brothers Charlie, Fred, George, and, when her time came to participate, Ginny had done so as well. During his free time, when he wasn’t avoiding Sirius or Remus, texting with Oliver, or spending time with Draco and Ginny, Harry and Ron would discuss the games, and while Harry had played while he was in what the people in the States called ‘high school’, he hadn’t cared about it as much as Ron had, or Cedric, who was said to be a star in his own right back at Eton.

Harry met Oliver for dinner the night he came back, and was pleased that he didn’t feel knackered as he had been of late. He was slightly taken aback when he went into the pub that Oliver had requested they meet up at, and was greeted with a passionate embrace and an equally passionate snog. Not one not to return the favor, Harry allowed himself to kiss the football player back, although it lacked something that he was unable to put his finger on. When Oliver told him that he missed him, and wanted to be official, however, Harry smiled and accepted the offer, and ordered a pint for himself.

That next Friday, after Oliver had been home for six days, Harry decided to take a chance with Severus. They had been getting nowhere on the case recently, and Harry had pondered shaking things up for some time. Just as they were gathering their things to call it a night, Harry reached out and put a tentative hand on Severus’s arm.

“Can I persuade you to have a drink with me?”

Severus blinked at the apparent boldness of the younger man, but inclined his head slightly at the request. “That would be acceptable.”

Harry and Severus left Scotland Yard together, walking down the street. Since he knew the area better than he did, Harry followed Severus and allowed him to pick the place, which turned out to be the Hog’s Head, and Harry remembered Commissioner Dumbledore informing him that his younger brother, Aberforth, owned the place. They stepped inside the place, Severus nodding to the bearded man behind the bar, who Harry guessed was Aberforth in the flesh, and moved over to a table that Severus had selected.

“What brought this on?” Severus asked, slipping into the booth attached to the wall, his obsidian eyes sweeping over Harry.

“I figured that perhaps a change of scenery would allow you to open up to me a bit more,” Harry replied with a shrug, unknotting the scarf from around his neck, which Ginny had considerately made for him.

Severus hummed, as if mulling it over. He nodded his head when Aberforth approached, putting two pints onto the wood table, and walked away. “A change of scenery,” he intoned, lifting the glass to his lips, vaguely aware of Harry doing the same.

“Yes,” Harry said, after he’d swallowed. “The office can be a bit dreary or stuffy. I just figured that you and I could come to an understanding.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “An understanding?”

“I feel like there are some unspoken things between us,” Harry admitted, after the moment of silence that passed between them was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

“How so?”

Harry sighed, leaning back against the wooden booth. “It’s just something that Sirius and Remus said to me,” he admitted.

Severus blinked. “And they are?”

“My godfather, or, rather, my adopted father, and his partner,” Harry explained. “I would’ve taken Sirius’s surname, Black, I suppose, upon the adoption, but he always said something about not insulting my parents’ memories...”

Severus stiffened. “Sirius Black is your godfather?”

Harry blinked. “Yes.”

“And... And his partner? Remus? Would that happen to be Remus Lupin?”

Harry felt his heart thundering in his chest at full speed at the look that Severus was giving him then, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why that was. “Yes. Why?”

Severus shut his eyes then, and shook his head. “What is your question?”

Harry worried his lower lip then, noticing that Severus’s body language had drastically changed, and it worried him, but he forced himself to press on. “Well, Sirius was angered when I told him that Commissioner Dumbledore had paired us to work together...”

Severus chuckled bitterly, low in his throat. “Oh, I’ll bet he was.”

“He... He also told me that I was to stay away from you...”

Severus opened his eyes and stared at Harry, momentary confusion passing over his face. “Well, I suppose not following the rules is a familial trait...”

“What...” Harry cut himself off then, and shook his head. “What are you saying?”

Severus hummed to himself again, picking up his glass and swirling the amber liquid inside it this way and that, so that it danced dangerously close to the rim. “Did Black inform you that he and I were at Eton at the same time?”

Harry shook his head. “He didn’t have to.”

Severus cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I figured that out for myself,” Harry replied. “He is two months your senior, after all, and I already knew that he and Remus attended, obviously. That would mean, barring academic restriction of any kind, or any potential failures on either end, that the three of you would have been in the same year.”

Severus scoffed to himself, allowing Harry’s assumption a brief nod. “Indeed, Harry, your deduction is correct.”

“Well,” Harry said, shrugging. “Why?”

Severus looked up at him again. “Pardon?”

“Why would Sirius tell me something like that?” Harry reached out then, tracing the ring that his glass had made onto the table before him, as the glasses’ condensation continued to steadily drip onto its surface, leading him to wonder why Aberforth didn’t consider coasters, as the slats of wood the table was built from seemed to be rather cheap, as its edges splintered easily. “Why would my adoptive father tell me to stay away from you?”

“Obviously, you’re not obeying his request,” Severus said softly, spreading out his hands wide, a flicker of annoyance peppering his tone. “So, why should it matter?”

“It matters to me,” Harry replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “For... For years, Sirius wanted me to be my father, leading Remus to tell him not to put that kind of burden upon me, and they would fight... I moved out as soon as I could, and yet, I’m back in the fray.”

Severus’s hands tightened around his glass. “Did they ever become violent with one another in front of you?”

Harry shook his head. “No. Never.”

“And you? Did Black ever raise a hand to you?”

Harry shook his head again. “No. Yelled at me a few times, when I was caught with my hand down a bloke’s pants during secondary school, and again, when he found cigarettes in my sock drawer, around the same time. But that was about it.”

Severus smirked. “Black is a hypocrite then.”

Harry blinked. “Pardon?”

“His hands were all over Lupin at Eton, and, as for the smoking, he and their little circle of friends were constantly blazing it up, as they said...”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, I suppose it’s not as bad as I thought, then...”

“What wasn’t, Harry?”

“Well, perhaps Sirius’s reasoning for telling me to stay away from you were merely petty ones, in that they formed back when you were teenagers.”

“While our opinions of one another certainly formed during those years, Harry, it was not merely over trivial matters such as sexual orientation or smoking habits.”

“I thought you were... You know,” Harry said.

Severus sighed. “I am, yes.”

“And, as for smoking?”

“Only when I’m stressed to the point where I cannot get to a gym to take out my frustration on the ways of the world by pushing my endurance to its limit,” Severus remarked quietly. “Albus looks the other way at the office, considering we’re technically not supposed to smoke within the building itself.”

Harry worried his lower lip and, unbeknownst to him, Severus shifted in his seat, attempting to hide his arousal at the unexpected gesture from the younger man. “But, it still doesn’t make any sense to me... Sirius always explained things at length to me over the years, but now...”

“Now what, Harry?”

“Now he just throws up his hands and storms out of the room. I want to understand, Severus, really I do. It’s all become much too much, and I’ve even started looking at nearby flats, because I can’t stand this childish behavior from him.”

Severus sighed. “All I can say to the matter in question, Harry, is that Black, Lupin, their little gang, and I did not get along during our Eton years. As for the rest,” he said, picking up his pint and staring into Harry’s unblinking green eyes, “I suggest you ask them yourself.”


End file.
